


Aftermath

by ZsforSs



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Baby Legolas Greenleaf, Child Neglect, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, He's actually trying in this fic though, Hopeful Ending, It still counts!, It's Legolas' mom, Minor Character Death, Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, That's Not How The Valar Work, This fic deals with the immediate aftermath of her death, Thranduil's A+ Parenting, accidental child abuse, well he's like five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 09:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14375493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZsforSs/pseuds/ZsforSs
Summary: He holds his wife in his arms as her last breath leaves her.  The desperate clutch of his hands does nothing to keep her with him.  He feels her spirit depart.He remembers very little of what comes next.He does not leave the bed.  He thinks sometimes he should, but it seems so hard.  So hard to do anything now that he is alone.Alone but for Legolas.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is technically a prequel to my other Thranduil and Legolas fic 'Diplomatic Relations.' If you don't like the sads go read that one instead.
> 
> 'Bass' (or possibly 'bast'? Elvish is ridiculous) is the Sindarin word for bread.
> 
> I am my own beta- please tell me if you see any typos. I will absolutely fix them.

He holds too tightly.

He cannot seem to help himself.  He remembers his lady, his Titheniel, laughing at him and squirming out of his grip.  “I am not going to float away!”  she says.  She takes his hands and kisses the backs of them.  The curve of her smile is finer than anything else Middle Earth has yet shown him.  “I promise.”

But it often seems it does him no good.

He holds his wife in his arms as her last breath leaves her.  The desperate clutch of his hands does nothing to keep her with him.  He feels her spirit depart. 

He remembers standing, and moving away from her… her body.  He remembers telling his second to ‘take care of things’.  Then there are only the briefest flashes- distant voices calling for him and trees, trees, trees- until he stumbles into the nursery and collapses beside Legolas on his little bed.

* * *

He remembers very little of what comes next.

He does not leave the bed.  He thinks sometimes he should, but it seems so hard.  So hard to do anything now that he is alone.

Alone but for Legolas.

Legolas.

Oh his Legolas.

Little arms wrap around his neck and he can breathe easier.

The rest of the world seems strangely muted- as if everything is underwater.  Everything but Legolas.

“It is alright Ada. I am here.”

He can feel Legolas breathing against his chest.  It reminds him he needs to breathe as well.

There are other people sometimes.  He cannot seem to hear them, but he hears Legolas speak to them. 

“No Ada can’t.”

“I’m alright.”

“No I can’t go.”

That last one scares him.  He clings desperately to his son’s little shoulders.  Legolas can’t _leave_.

“Shh shh Ada,” Legolas says, tiny fingers twisting in his hair.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

Thranduil presses his face into Legolas’ hair and sobs.

Legolas kisses his forehead.

* * *

Sometimes there is food.  He is not hungry.

“Ada please.  You need to eat.”

Legolas sounds worried. That isn’t right.

Thranduil pulls his son closer.  Legolas is alright, he assures himself.  Legolas is here.  Legolas is safe.

“Ada _eat_.” Legolas presses, holding something to his mouth.

He is not hungry.

“Ada _please_.”

He takes a bite.  He almost can’t swallow the bread and honey- it seems to stick in his throat.  He forces it down.  And the rest of the slice.  He drinks some water and has another slice of bread- plain this time.

Legolas is crying.

That is not right.  He pulls Legolas close.  Legolas hugs him tightly.

“I love you Ada.”

Legolas sounds so tired. 

He is so tired.

* * *

Legolas sleeps and he drifts.  He stares sightlessly at the waves of Legolas’ corn silk hair on the pillow.

Everything hurts.  He misses her. Like a part of him has been torn away.

“Thranduil.”  The voice is not Legolas, but it seems to cut through the fog in his head.

He looks up.

The dark-eyed elf smiles at him.  He is familiar somehow… though Thranduil cannot recall seeing him before.  The elf is in a hooded robe of a style Thranduil has not seen in an Age.  It is grey- except where the light streaming in through the windows strikes it.  There the elf’s robes seem to shimmer like insect wings and oil on water.

“Will you stay?” the elf asks.

Thranduil stares at the stranger for a long moment.  He _knows_ he knows him.

“Námo.” He says at last. 

The elf who is not an elf nods and smiles again.  It is not a happy smile.

“You could be with her again.” The Vala says.

He could.  He could leave this dreary place and be with his beloved again.

He draws in a deep breath … and Legolas shifts against his chest.

Legolas.

Námo’s smile loses its sad twist.  The Vala beams at the elfling curled up in his arms.  He reaches out and cards a hand through Legolas’ hair.

Thranduil is not sure what he would expect the touch of the Vala of Death to do, but Legolas does not drop dead- he does not even wake up.

“His stay here is not in question.” Námo says, answering a question Thranduil has not asked.

If he goes he will go alone.

“I can’t,” Thranduil says. “I can’t leave him.”

It hurts to say.  To know that he is losing her again almost but- “He needs me.  And she would be so mad at me she would try to kill me again.” 

Námo laughs and nods once.  Then the Vala is fading away, like mist in the sun.

Thranduil blinks at the empty space where the Vala was.  He still feels terrible but- but he no longer feels quite so underwater. The world around him seems closer.

Legolas sits up in his arms.

His baby.  His boy. His Legolas.

“Ada,” Legolas says and yawns hugely. “You smell funny.”

Thranduil frowns.  He does not.  He breathes deeply through his nose- and makes a face.  Alright, so he does.

Legolas is not looking so good either.  His hair is actually starting to look a little greasy and he is wearing a very dingy looking nightgown.  Has he not changed in- however long it has been?  …Had he ever let Legolas out of arms reach?

Thranduil reluctantly touches his own hair- it is greasy too. He is wearing the same underclothes he had on when th- before.

He had had armor on before too but he is not wearing it now. He has no idea where it went.

“We need a bath.”  Thranduil croaks.  His voice is hoarse and his throat is painfully dry.

Legolas looks surprised when he speaks and Thranduil wonders again how long he has been here.  Silent and unresponsive.

Then Legolas smiles.  It is a decidedly wobbly smile and his elfling’s eyes are suspiciously damp.  But it makes it easier for Thranduil to scoop Legolas up and stand.

He nearly trips over his discarded armor and the dirty dishes scattered around the bed.   He has no memory of taking off his armor or of there being enough food to need so many dishes. 

There is no bathroom attached to Legolas’ quarters, so Thranduil heads for his own quarters.

They meet Galion coming the other way.  His dearest friend is tense and unsmiling- until he sees them coming.  Galion relaxes all at once, as if some great burden has left him. 

“We’re going to take a bath!” Legolas tells him. 

Galion smiles at Legolas, and grips Thranduil’s shoulder.  “When did you eat last?” he asks. 

He does not know the answer.  “Will you bring us food?” he asks his voice still cracking.

Galion squeezes his shoulder. “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

* * *

Thranduil walks into his rooms and stops dead.  

This was a terrible idea.

Their rooms.  It smells like her.  On their bed he can see the impression of her head on her pillow.  She will never rest there beside him again. He will never again wake to a faceful of her wild gold locks. 

Small fingers dig into his arm, “Ada?”

Thranduil shut his eyes and pressed his face into Legolas’ hair. 

_Breathe._

Legolas smells like sleep sweat and …honey.  Thranduil pulls back looks at his son’s head.

“You have honey in your hair,” he says.

“Oh.” Legolas says.  Little sticky hands reach up and pat at his hair. 

Legolas is a mess.

He is a mess.

He turns away from the room and the painful afterimages of his wife and heads for the bathroom.

After a moment of consideration on the edge of the bath- a wide pool in the floor full of clean cool water- Thranduil simply drops Legolas in, clothes and all before wading in after him.

“Adaaaa!” Legolas is indignant when he surfaces.  “I’ve still got clothes on!”

“Well that’s silly.” Thranduil says as he peels himself out of his own wet clothes- they will need washing anyway. “Why did you do that?”

He tosses his soaking clothes aside and turns.

Legolas is glaring murder at him.  Though Legolas has obviously tried to push it out of his face, his son’s fine hair still clings to his cheek and forehead, he looks rather like a wilting dandelion.

Thranduil nearly smiles as he bends to help Legolas undress and wash.

* * *

The bath starts out well.

Well, Legolas is filthy.  He is filthy too.  But the sweat and grime washes off.  And he feels marginally better.

Until near the end, when Thranduil notices the bruises on Legolas’ small shoulders.

They are nearly faded but their shape and position are far far too familiar.

Legolas says nothing about the shadowy imprints of Thranduil’s own hands on him.  He does not shy away from Thranduil’s touch.  He does not look at Thranduil like he is a monster.

He should.

“Ada?”  Legolas’ voice quavers. Thranduil cannot look at him.

“Ada?!” Legolas grabs his hand with both of his own.  He is sitting on the steps down into the pool.  He does not remember sitting.  Legolas is beside him, eyes huge and watery.

“I…” Thranduil cannot speak.  Legolas squeezes his hand. 

Someone knocks on the door. “The food is ready.”  Galion calls.

Thranduil takes a deep breath and tries to put it away.  He squeezes Legolas’ hands- gently, so gently there is nearly no pressure at all- and stands.

He dresses quickly in a light robe- but there is nothing of Legolas’ in his closet.  He wouldn’t bother- but he does not want to see those bruises. He does not want others to see those bruises.  He would not admit to the world the harm he has caused his son in the wild storm of his grief.  Finally he finds a shirt that will suit- the collar is small enough not to fall off Legolas’ shoulders and it is not quite long enough to drag on the ground.

Legolas clings to his hand as they leave the bathroom.  He brings Legolas over to the table to eat.  He sets Legolas down on a chair and begins to move away so he can speak to Galion- but when he tries to step back Legolas grabs his arm and clings to him.  

“Where are you going?” Legolas sounds nearly panicked and refuses to let go.  Thranduil leans over and hugs him, while running soothing fingers through his hair.

“Shh Shh,” he says. Legolas had done exactly this not very long ago- trying to take care of Thranduil when it should have been Thranduil taking care of him. “I’m going to go talk to Galion alright?  We’ll be right here.  And I’ll be right back to eat with you.”

Legolas eyes him suspiciously. “…Alright” he says finally.

Thranduil leaves Legolas at the table, glaring at the fruit selection, and motions for Galion to follow him across the room.  The room is too small for them to be out of earshot but they stop by the bed- Legolas is just far enough away he will have to actively try to overhear them.

“How long was I…?”  Thranduil does not know what to call the condition he was in.

Galion takes his hand.  “You came home 12 days ago.  Orelneth last saw you three days before that.”

Thranduil takes a deep breath.  “Legolas was with me the entire time.”

Galion nodded.  “Since you arrived here.  You were rather insistent that he stay with you.”

Thranduil does not know what to say.  Does Galion know?  Does everyone know?  Did they have stop trying to remove Legolas because Thranduil was hurting him?

“You shouldn’t have-”  He does not know how to finish that sentence.

Galion squeezes his hand.  “I thought it might help at first.  Having him close. … I was on my way, just now, to take him away.  I am glad it won't be necessary.”

Thranduil looks away. “Thank you.”  Thranduil says and means it.  He has always trusted Galion, but right now he trusts Galion more than he trusted himself. 

Galion pulls him into a tight hug.  Thranduil nearly goes limp, and clings to his oldest friend. “I will help you with this any way I can,” he says.  Thranduil rests his head on Galion’s shoulder.  Galion strokes his hair soothingly.  “Go eat.”

Thranduil nods and straightens up.  He turns back to the table and finds Legolas watching them and not eating at all.  He goes and sits with Legolas, tugging his son onto his lap.  Legolas settles down with a roll after Thranduil cuts it open and smears honey inside.  Thranduil finds nothing on the table is appealing.  He _is_ hungry, he just does not want to eat anything before him.  Legolas is watching him like a hawk.  Thranduil forces himself to eat- first about half an apple, then a roll with butter.  He picks at the salad and manages a bite of bacon before giving the rest of the strip to Legolas.  Legolas eats the bacon eagerly and then starts picking tomatoes out of the salad. 

It makes Thranduil smile- peaches and tomatoes and honey make up about half of Legolas’ diet.  Something the household staff is well aware of.  Even his stiff formal captain of the guard has been known to slip Legolas bits of honeycomb.

“…Galion.” Thranduil says.  “Is there any urgent business that I need to take care of?”

Galion frowns. “Yes,” he admits.

Thranduil nods.  “I need to go in.”

“Can I come?”  Legolas asks immediately.

“Yes.” Thranduil says.  He cannot bear the thought of leaving Legolas behind- not yet.

“You should not overtax yourself.”  Galion protests.

Thranduil smiles. “I trust you to make sure I do not overwork myself.”

Galion huffs but nods reluctantly.

He decides against changing clothes, so he and Legolas and Galion go to Thranduil’s office- Legolas dressed only in one of Thranduil’s shirts and he himself in a tunic and leggings. 

The whispers start as soon as others see him.  Legolas frowns at the attention, but Thranduil tries not to let it bother him.  He has been missing for days, even if he is not yet ready to hold court his people need to know he is still here with them.

Legolas falls asleep soon after they start working, curling up against Thranduil’s chest with his eyes shut.  He nearly abandons work and takes Legolas to the healers- bruises or not- until Galion reassures him Legolas just needs rest.

“He hasn’t been sleeping well.” Galion tells him. “Just let him rest.”

Thranduil relaxes and lays Legolas out on the couch in the corner of his office instead.  There he stays while Thranduil and Galion sort through documents and try to play catch up.  Thranduil finds the work soothing, actually.  It gives him something to focus on besides his pain- something important.  He likely would have stayed all night, but after a few hours Legolas wakes and Galion makes him come away.  

When they return to Thranduil’s rooms the bedding has been changed, and there is new food laid out.  Legolas goes to investigate the food while Thranduil looks around. There is also a small chest resting on a side table with the lid open.  It was full of clothing for Legolas.

“I thought you would not like to be alone just yet,” Galion says quietly.  “And the nursery is still being cleaned.”

Thranduil nods.

“Bas!” Legolas says excitedly.  “What are you doing?”

Thranduil turns.  Bas is a small cloth deer Galion gave Legolas when he was a toddler.  The toy deer is perched in the bread basket on the table.  Legolas tugs the toy out of the basket and onto his lap.  Thranduil looks back at Galion and raises an eyebrow.

Galion smiles. “That’s funny and you know it,” he says.

Thranduil shakes his head and goes to join Legolas.

After they eat, they bid Galion good night and Thranduil changes himself and Legolas into nightclothes.  Thranduil and Legolas curl up on the bed- though neither are ready to sleep just yet.

Legolas’ nightshirt is short-sleeved and loose, so that when he lifts Bas up over his head the sleeves fall back and the bruises on his arms are readily visible.  Faced again with the evidence of his actions Thranduil cannot look his son in the face.

“Ada.” Legolas says suddenly. “Ada it is alright.”

Thranduil shakes his head, and then Legolas’ tiny hands touch his face.  His cheeks are wet.  Thranduil looks up and locks eyes with his son.  Legolas is solemn and frowning.  “It is alright,” he repeats.

“No it isn’t.” Thranduil says.  He hugs Legolas to his chest.  “It isn’t alright.  I am sorry ion nin.  I have not been being a very good Ada.  I will be better.”

Legolas wiggles free of his grip and glares at Thranduil.  “You are the best Ada.” Then Legolas kisses him on the nose.

Thranduil sighs, and looks at his son. No, no he is not even close to being the best Ada.  But he will be better than this.  He looks at the bruises marring his son’s skin, they will fade away in days but Thranduil will never let himself forget.  He will be better than this.

Thranduil kisses Legolas’ forehead. This will never happen again. “Ada loves you las nin.”

“Love you too Ada.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's my personal head cannon that Galion is not from Mirkwood, but was part of a small minority of Silvan elves living in Doriath and that he and Thranduil met and became friends there when they were very young. I have absolutely no textual backing for this belief but you will have to pry it from my cold dead fingers.
> 
> I actually wrote this a long time ago- and stalled out on the intended second chapter where I tried to untangle Thranduil and Legolas' messed up relationship in the Hobbit movies. I eventually gave up on that chapter and decided to post this one by itself since it was done already and I quite liked it.
> 
> Why is Legolas' stuffed deer named 'Bread'? Well obviously because they are both brown and warm. (Fun Fact: I have a small brown teddy bear I acquired when I was 3/4 who is named Toasty for similar reasons.)


End file.
